Opera Ghosts and Ballet Rats
by Alcyone Fletcher
Summary: Erik moves into the Opera House and quickly forms a friendship with young Giry. No, not all is fun and games, at least not for the poor Opera House managers.
1. The Arrival

**A/N:** This probably won't become much of a young Giry/Erik pairing (...but who knows...?)—I'm mostly writing this out of speculation, and for fun. May border on AU. And if anyone has come up with a similar storyline before: I honestly didn't copy you—the idea suddenly came into my mind while I was on the computer at 3AM. Heheh. Oh, and this is overall musical & movie-versed. Also, since I don't know Madame Giry's maiden name, I dub her: Antoinette Lauran.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Arrival  
**

They sprinted down the street, gasping for breath. Antoinette skidded to a stop as they reached the back of the Opera House, and shot a glance backward. No pursuers in sight, yet. She had to hurry. With trembling fingers, she somehow managed to get the grate open. "Hurry," she hissed, nudging the boy toward the opening. "I'll go around and meet you." He crawled in, and she shut the grate again with a sigh of relief.

Brushing her hands off, Antoinette began walking around the opera house. Serenely. Very serenely.

Soon enough, a heavy-set man wielding a club careened around the corner, followed by several others. "'ey, you there!"

Antoinette's insides jumped and did a few pirouettes (which she immediately felt tempted to physically copy), but she kept her face expressionless. "Yes?"

"Did you see that carnival display come around here? You prolly wouldn't have missed 'im—he looks like a little monster." He spat and waited for her answer.

"No," Antoinette replied nonchalantly. "Sorry."

Growling in frustration, the men rushed off. Antoinette allowed herself a grin, then shouted after them. "Oh, actually… I think I saw several!" She quickly ran to the front of the Opera House, dashed inside, and headed for the basement. The boy was waiting for her there and gave her a grateful nod as soon as she entered the room. Antoinette grabbed his wrist and led him down a flight of stairs which led to a small, unused storage room. She walked to the back of the room, lifted another rusty grate in the wall, and motioned for the boy to enter.

They crawled through, to find themselves standing in front of a large subterranean lake. "What now?" the boy spoke for the first time. His voice was rather hoarse and raspy, although Antoinette guessed that it must have been resonant before he had been mistreated.

Instead of replying, Antoinette took her shoes and off and stepped into the water. The boy followed. They waded through the mostly shallow water. Antoinette suddenly realized that she had forgotten to take her stockings off and mentally kicked herself. Well, at least she didn't feel the slime that coated the stone.

A few minutes later, they reached land again. The boy looked impressed. "How did you find out about this place?"

"I…uh…occasionally skip ballet practices." Antoinette replied sheepishly. "Anyhow, you can basically go anywhere in the Opera House through these tunnels. And you'll be safe here. I'll bring food and clothes later."

The boy's mouth twitched in a sort of a twisted smile. Not much of a smile, but it certainly did make him look slightly better, even the ungainly—or downright hideous—side of his face. Much to her surprise, Antoinette did not feel much revulsion at his face anymore.

"Thank you," he said. "What's your name?"

"Antoinette. Yours?"

"Erik."

--

Upon her return to her living quarters, Antoinette found to her great dismay that Madame LeGrand, the ballet instructor, had decided to pay her a visit. She was sitting on the bed, her sharp features even sharper than usual. "Antoinette Lauran, are you skipping rehearsal again?" she demanded and thumped her stick on the floor. "I will not tolerate this behavior much longer."

Antoinette mentally stuck her tongue out at her, careful to keep her soaked stockings (oh, why hadn't she taken them off?) behind her back. "I'm sorry, Madame," she feigned a tone of utter misery. "I stayed behind at the carnival. There was so much to see!"

"Please, Antoinette. No excuses. What's that you're holding?"

"Oh...it's nothing."

"I saw that. What is it?"

"I...uh...stepped in a puddle." She sighed and dropped the stockings on the floor beside her.

"So your shoes are wet as well?"

"Um...no."

Madame looked slightly confused, but shook her head and finally stood up."Well, change and come to practice! I will be waiting. And I expect you to wash those soiled stockings. I will not have my dancers called 'ballet rats.'" She left the room.

Antoinette changed and went down to the stage where the rehearsal was in progress. Lefevre—the young stagehand with the strange hairstyle—smirked at her, but she ignored him and quickly took her position at the side of the stage. As the dance scene came up and she glided out into the center with the other dancers, her mind drifted down to the large cellars again, and to Erik.

--

That day, their friendship began.

* * *

-To be continued

A/N2: Sorry this chapter is short and not too interesting, but I had to set the stage for everything and such. The next chapter will hopefully be much better.


	2. New Kid on the Block

Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. Credit goes to Leroux, Kay, and ALW.

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**Chapter 2**

Antoinette hurried toward the dormitory as fast as she could when the rehearsal was over, leaping over Lefevre's leg, which had suddenly materialized in her way. She glimpsed Madame Legrand shooting a disapproving glance at her, but decided to disregard it. She hoped Madame wouldn't come up to the dormitories again. Lifting the mattress of her bed, she pulled a small purse out and counted her money. More than enough to buy a good shirt and a pair of trousers. She would procure the food at dinner later.

She stuffed the purse into her pocket, arranged the mattress neatly again, and ran down the stairs. Thankfully, neither Madame Legrand nor the managers were in the main hall. The door of the Opera House was open, and she ran outside. The cool autumn wind lifted her hair slightly as she walked toward the general store. She loved autumn—the fragrant air, the colorful leaves, and the hint of cold in the air. The harsh near-winter wind made a bird's nest out of her long brown hair just then, and she quickly changed her mind. Blast the yellowing, dying leaves and the frigid winds.

At that moment, the large, dirty-looking men thundered past her again. One of them suddenly stopped and looked back at Antoinette. "You seen him yet?"

Antoinette rolled her eyes. "You are still around? You're the only monsters I've seen around here so far."

The man started walking toward her with a glower, but halted when he saw her bend down and pick a stone up. "D'ye really think—" he started, but the next moment he found himself backing away around the corner, nursing a rather large bruise that had suddenly formed on his nose.

Feeling thankful for the year or two she had spent in a rather slummy part of the city, Antoinette finally arrived at the store and walked inside. She looked around once and made a mad dash for the men's clothes section. No one was looking at the clothes for the moment. She hesitated, then picked a shirt and black trousers. The coats were too expensive, unfortunately. She dumped them on the table where the shopkeeper sat, and pulled her purse out. The shopkeeper looked at her with a quizzical look in his eyes.

"It's…it's for my friend," Antoinette quickly explained, paid for the clothes, and strode out of the store. Only then did she realize that she had forgotten to bring her cloth bag, and had to carry the clothes back.

Antoinette ran into the opera house, only to collide into someone. The clothes dropped to the floor, and she hastily bent down to pick it up. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where—"

"Antoinette!" It was Madame Legrand's voice. Antoinette winced and looked up. "Oh…hello! It's lovely to see you again!"

Madame peered down at her, her eyes now forming hazel slits. "And what are you doing with a boy's clothes?"

"Boy? Ha ha! You must be kidding! Those are…hm… I… uh… I was getting costumes for the production."

"_Hannibal_ doesn't use any of those clothes, Antoinette." When Madame was annoyed, her slight Russian accent grew more exaggerated.

"I knew that. I'll talk to you later, Madame!" Silently berating herself for being so horrible at making things up on the spot, Antoinette flashed Madame Legrand an apologetic grin and darted up the stairs. _Drat, I'm going to need to come up with better stories if I'm going to be keeping everything secret._

To her relief, dinner went much better. Her friends did remark on how fast Antoinette was eating, and Madame warned her to stay trim, but that was about it.

--

Elena Legrand glanced at the twelve-year-old ballet girl as she reached for yet another roll. What on earth was wrong with that girl?

--

Erik looked around. This was by far one of the best rooms he'd ever had in his entire life. For once, he had solitude. Safety from prying eyes and jeering faces. It was quiet here. He sat down and buried his face in his arms. The right side of his face throbbed again from all the slaps he had suffered earlier that day. How he hated his "jailer." He'd killed him, but for some reason he did not feel much satisfaction. Just immense guilt. And how he hated the deformity. He still remembered those repulsed glances his mother had always given him. His eyes suddenly felt hot—silently, he cried for the first time today. His emaciated chest heaved, and tears brimmed in his eyes and streamed down. Choking back the sobs, he leaned back against the wall and swiped at his wet face with balled fists. His entire life was a nightmare, and he had just wanted it all to end.

And yet, he had now been blessed with someone who didn't fear him. Antoinette was…friendly to him. He hoped that it wasn't a dream. He sat there and finally lost track of time. When he came to himself, his eyes ached, and his lips felt salty.

He shook his head and sat up, deciding that there was no use in sitting around and moping. The cavern was rather dull—if he were to live there, he would need to make major modifications. Countless ideas already sprang up in his mind. He smiled, despite himself. Candles, lots of candles. He'd always loved candles—something about that flickering, mysterious fire attracted him. And rooms, separated with curtains. A raft! He could build a raft. And when he had some spare time, he'd explore all the—

He heard someone sloshing toward the cavern and stiffened. Right outside the cavern, the footsteps stopped. "Erik? Can I come in?"

Erik immediately relaxed again. "Sure."

The slim figure of Antoinette appeared at the opening of the cavern. She was carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle. She carefully made her way up out of the water and set the bundle down. "Here, I brought you some clothes," she said, unwrapping the cloth and laying out a pair of trousers and a shirt. "Oh, and it's probably going to get cold down here in the winter. I couldn't buy a coat, so…I hope this one will do." She handed him a coat that just barely fit him. "And I hope you don't mind the ruffles."

Erik looked down in slight alarm. White, lacy ruffles surrounded the fringe of the coat, as well as the sleeve. He finally shrugged. "I don't mind."

Antoinette grinned and tried to hold back a laugh.

"No one's going to see me, anyway," he added darkly.

Antoinette gave a quiet sigh as she looked at the boy's scarred face. "Oh, and I brought some food."

"Thank you." Erik almost sounded happy for a moment.

"Well, I have to go." Antoinette stood up. "Madame will probably be wondering about me. I'll come by again."

--

Elena walked into the manager's office. "Monsieur Alvord?"

"Yes, Madame Legrand?" Henri Alvord looked up from the stack of papers he had been perusing.

"Did you tell Antoinette Lauran to buy any costumes for the production?"

"No…why would I send a ballet girl on such an errand, anyway?"

"How strange. But I was just wondering. Good day!"

* * *

-To be continued

**Yep… good ol' Hannibal. And my, isn't Mme. Legrand nosy…**


End file.
